


Tony Has a Bad Day

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something the matter with Tony ... can the team figure it out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony Has a Bad Day

Silence reigned in the bull pen at NCIS – this was unusual as the MCRT team boss Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was down in autopsy having a conference with Dr Mallard and normally his team members took the opportunity to gossip about things their leader would think a frivolous waste of time. Today, however, was different. Special Agents McGee and David had arrived if not full of the joys of spring, at least with a generous helping of them. Alas, they had quickly discovered that their co-worker Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was not his usual bouncy self.

Tony DiNozzo was sitting gazing vacantly at his computer screen which Timothy McGee was quick to spot was not switched on – McGee wasn't called McComputerwiz for nothing. Ziva David concluded that Tony had obviously been in for a little while as there were two empty coffee cups on his desk and a smear of jam on his upper lip from a breakfast doughnut. She reflected that Tony's nosiness had ribbed ... no, rubbed, off on her.

“Good morning to you, Tony, she greeted him, “a beautiful day is it not?”

Tony looked up at her and she saw a look of horror and disbelief flit across his face. Then with a visible effort he put on a welcoming smile, started to say something but then seemed to find the effort too much and returned to gazing at his computer screen.

Tim leaned across Tony's desk and helpfully switched on the computer. He gave a surreptitious sniff but couldn't smell any alcohol or see the makings of the DiNozzo defibrillator – no hangover then. He was surprised to see that Tony was wearing jeans and his Ohio sweatshirt – this was unusual for a Tuesday in the working week and normally meant that he was in a good, and somewhat wearing (to others) mood.

As Tim and Ziva exchanged puzzled looks, Gibbs came sweeping into the room in his accustomed brisk manner. He stared at DiNozzo,

“Reliving the glory days are we, DiNozzo?”

Tony jumped slightly and then looked down at his sweatshirt.

“Oh God,” he moaned and put his head in his hands for a moment. Then he seemed to pull himself together, stood up and reached into the filing cabinet behind him and pulled out a change of clothes. He excused himself and made his way to the men's room. He returned a few minutes later wearing grey pants and what looked like one of Gibbs' polo shirts ...one of Gibbs' less colourful polo shirts. He seated himself at his desk, treated everyone to a vague smile and pulled a folder towards him and began to work.

Two hours later the team were still doing the paperwork resulting from the closure of their most recent case. Director Vance had agreed that they would be off rotation until that work was done and a number of upcoming court appearances were over. If a petty officer turned up dead in Rock Creek Park or a woman named Sarah was in trouble another team would have to deal with it. McGee, Ziva and Gibbs felt that they were trapped in some sort of twilight zone with a silent DiNozzo. Ducky and Abby had paid fleeting visits but sensing the atmosphere found somewhere else to be as soon as possible.

This was a Tony outside their experience ... he wasn't irritable as he had been on the day when the coffee shop had run out of chocolate for the top of his cappuccino (that was a day nobody wanted to relive), he wasn't being superefficient as on previous occasions when he had turned into podTony ... he just seemed to be, well, miserable. He was clearly not doing it for attention – he just sat there sadly doing his work rather slowly. Finally Gibbs had had enough,

“DiNozzo, go and get us all some drinks – from that coffee place you like.” McGee and Ziva looked up in surprise – Gibbs hardly ever bought them drinks. They were even more surprised when Tony got up meekly and put his coat on – Tony hated going to get them drinks. As he walked towards the elevator Gibbs barked,

“Hey, you don't know what we want!”

Tony smiled sheepishly and listened as the others gave their orders. Although truth to tell, the only unknown quantity was what concoction was flavour of the month for McGee. He took the order without making fun of McGee's choice and walked listlessly back to the elevator. As soon as he'd gone, Gibbs was on the phone summoning Ducky and Abby for a conference. They arrived together very quickly – not surprising as they had both been in Abby's lab discussing the DiNozzo situation.

“Ducky, are you sure that DiNozzo didn't pick up a concussion during the Spencer case?”

“Why no, Jethro. If you remember he stayed in the car all the time while Ziva and Timothy gave chase – he said he was letting them have the experience.”

“Abby, I need you to run a chemical analysis of his hair and nails to make sure he hasn't been exposed to some insidious substance.”

“I've already done that Gibbs. This team is so unlucky when it comes to rare compounds that I make a point of doing it every time you go anywhere. I've been meaning to tell you that you need to start using a different type of glue in the basement because I think it's beginning to do something hinky to your sense of colour ... unless you liked that pinkish shirt you wore yesterday.”

“Washing machine malfunction, Abs, not wardrobe malfunction. McGee, got any ideas?”

“Well”, said Tim, “I've been looking at my DiNozzo disaster database for clues.”

“Your what?” asked the others

“I keep a database of potential trigger points which gives me automatic alerts so I can be prepared for possible switches in Tony's moods. You know the sort of thing, if Buckeyes have won by a landslide I get ready for unbearable cheerfulness; if they lose I get ready for the reverse. There's a list of possible significant dates which might affect him. Then there are random things – I have the computer programmed to look out for bulletins on the James Bond films. If it's announced that they're not going to make any more of them I have an automatic leave request programmed. Same as if it's announced that the Ferrari factory is closed down.”

Ziva moved menacingly towards McGee's desk as she toyed with a paper clip.

“So, McGee, do you have similar databases on your other co-workers?

“No, of course not,” lied McGee secure in the knowledge that nobody would be able to hack into his computer ... although Tony did sometimes display mad computer skills. But, seriously, with a team as disturbed as his it was a sensible precaution to have as much information available as possible. He knew he'd be glad he'd made a new entry for November 30th in Ducky's database. He hadn't known until last year that that was St Andrew's Day, patron saint of Scotland – but then Ducky had arrived at work wearing his kilt. It had been a particularly gusty day and he'd received visual confirmation that Ducky was a traditionalist when it came to Scottish attire. McGee had another automatic leave request programmed for this year.

Gibbs glared at him but then seemed to decide that Tim's monitoring of his team was a topic for discussion on another day.

“So, what have you found out? Any triggers?”

“No. It is St George's Day – patron saint of England. Do you think that might make Tony sad ... you know, make him think of his uncle Clive or his mom?”

“Never has before. Can't see why it should today.  Anyone else got any ideas?”

“We could ask Jimmy”, suggested Abby, “they sometimes chat together.”

“Excellent idea, Abigail. I'll call him up immediately – he'll enjoy a break from cleaning the pipettes,” said Ducky. When he arrived Palmer tried to stand up for Tony – he was honoured that the team would think Tony would have confided in him.

“I'm sorry but if Tony, I mean Special Agent DiNozzo, told me something I would regard it as sacrosanct and not to be shared.”

“Yes, yes, Mr Palmer” said Ducky, “we all admire your sense of honour and I'm sure that Anthony would be touched. Now, is there anything that he  _has_  told you in confidence?”

Jimmy noticed that Ziva was playing nonchalantly with a paper clip. He gulped nervously,

“O...on...on this occasion, no. But if he had, I wouldn't tell you what ... no matter what you did to me.”

“Very good, Mr Palmer. Now why don't you just go back to your pipettes? And when you've finished them, there's that dismembered sheep to reassemble for Agent Balboa”. Jimmy scuttled off thankfully.

Left alone, the team looked at one another. Their investigative skills had failed them – it was the sort of case that Tony would have revelled in.

“Only one thing for it,” said Gibbs.

“We'll have to ask him,” said McGee and Ziva disconsolately. Tim was about to suggest a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who would do the deed when Tony arrived back bearing the drinks and an enormous bag of doughnuts.

“I didn't tell you to buy doughnuts”, said Gibbs thinking of his wallet. Tony looked surprised when he saw the bag of pastries,

“The barista felt sorry for me, insisted I take them. I think some of them have got sprinkles on, Tim but I'll pick them off for you.”

Ziva, Abby, Ducky and Tim all looked at Gibbs – their fearless leader. Gibbs sighed and decided to bite the bullet. He said, in his gentlest and least threatening tone of voice,

“What the hell's the matter with you, DiNozzo?”

Tony slumped into his chair, cradling the doughnuts to his chest.

“It's nothing, Boss, really. I'll get over it.”

“Tony, we are teammates, we should look out for each other, you know we would always have your sex.”

“SIX”, roared Tim, Gibbs, Abby and Ducky. Ziva smiled – this was always fun.

Tony gave a wan smile. “That's good to know, guys ... a bit terrifying, but good to know.”

“Anthony, you know, in my experience it's almost always better to share what's bothering you. Why I remember a young lad from my bonnie village in Scotland who insisted on bottling everything up. Admittedly he went on to become a distiller of the finest whiskies but nevertheless ...” Abby interrupted Ducky,

“You know, Tony, if you tell me what the problem is, I can get the nuns to pray about it. And you know, Sister Rosita practically has a hotline to the man upstairs ... or I could give you a hug, that always makes you feel better.”

“Not when I've got a broken arm, Abs”.

McGee was trying, without success, to think of something reassuring and bracing to say but could only think of volunteering to catalogue Tony's DVD collection. He didn't get to make the offer because Gibbs spoke again,

“Tony, either tell us what's going on or I'm going to schedule you for some unarmed combat training ... against all of us.”

Tony sat up a bit straighter.

“OK, if you insist. I ... I've just found out that I'm a grandfather.”

There was a deathly hush as his co-workers tried to take this in. Unsurprisingly, Gibbs was the first to get control of his voice.

“I didn't know you were a father”.

Tony looked into the distance for a while and then said, in a slightly choked voice,

“Well, technically I'm not. I'm godfather to one of my frat brother's daughters. I used to like the sound of being a godfather ... great films ... but I had a phone call last night to say she's just had a little boy and she called me his 'god grandparent'. Oh God, I'm old enough to be a grandpa ... he's going to grow up calling me grandpa”. Overcome, he buried his head in his hands again.

His co-workers stared at him in silence for a while, at a loss to know what they should do or say. Gibbs stepped forward, placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. Abby gave him a gentle hug. Ziva patted him on the head. Ducky coughed in a sympathetic way. Tim was left alone in front of the desk, he looked at his stricken teammate and searched for the right words or actions. Finally he said,

“Tony, keep the doughnuts. I think you need them more than we do.”

That got a response. Tony looked up, with the hint of a tear in his eye,

“Thanks, Tim. That means a lot.”

And he pulled a doughnut out of the bag and took a thoughtful bite.

“Hey, at least it's a boy ... I'll be able to buy him a football!”

The others looked at each other and smiled ... it looked as if Tony was on the mend. Tim surreptitiously made a new entry in the DiNozzo database – April 23rd might be a day to watch out for next year.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written April 24th, the day after St George's Day!


End file.
